Best Dryly Poems
Somewhere past the fallen limbs
Of old tangled oaks and elm
Breaking silence as lighting dims
Rushing whispers split the realm
Mocking silence with a hush
It slicks the stones of shallow brook,
Exalting in babble with a gush,
I turn to take a humble look.
Searching fluid sounds of creation
Articulating His wordless voice,
Tears fall dryly at my sublimation
To waters endless song , rejoice.
Brenda Atry
September 28, 2011
Categories:
dryly, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
The last Night of October
It's that time, again, the last night of October,
the last glow of twilight nearly gone.
Children race out and about,
winding through the streets and alleys.
Brightly colored costumes,
mom's old wig, dad's old sport coat.
All hoping to fill their bags with the prize:
Candy bars, bag of licorice, candy corn, pop corn balls,
apples, Bit-O-Honey, and Pez dispensed joy.
Some, their favorites, to greedily keep their own,
others to give to a poor sibling, who stayed home with the mumps.
With faces painted, steel themselves, for the gauntlet ahead,
the familiar street now somehow strange in the gloom,
to walk past hallowed ground,
All was quiet, save for the rustling of the leaves.
The daylight gone, now cloaked in Stygian darkness..,
ahead lie, the old grave yard.
Raucous laughter, which echoed only moments before,
trailed off into whispered murmurs.
All eyes from the once merry band looked now,
to their leader, albeit quickly chosen,
the tallest, and oldest, and bravest.
He too, resolve waning, felt the grip of those things unknown,
in the shadowy mist,
heart now beating faster, he chides the little ones,
for being such silly ninnies.
Just now, what was that! What was that sound?!?
Was that an owl? Or, maybe Old Man Godfrey, come back from his
now disturbed rest!
Young sister's hands clasped brother's, tightly,
and brother's, impishly taking the clammy worts,
decidedly grew, just a bit older, wiser,
and braver in kind.
Now turning the corner at Elm street, they walked at even pace.
With heads bowed low, mid-block, each chanced a glance, only to look away,
from the wrought iron gate.
Young heads, did now envision mystic spectres, ghouls and fantastic phantoms, with jaws agape, smiling in toothy cheer, bony fingered hands reaching through the heavy bars.
Swallowing dryly, daring just one quick glance back,
at the narrow lane winding, into the stone covered grounds,
dotted with ivy covered trees of willow and oak.
Back into the world of the living, back to
All Hallow's Eve.
-Happy Halloween
Categories:
dryly, america, child, horror, magic,
Form:
Free verse
a gray squirrel just hopped by
and hardly left a track
On snow that's covered ground for weeks
Or is it months I rack
Upon a well filled memory's shelf
Of Winter's lengthy lack.
The morning sun shines through the cold
Teasing open azalea leaves
and fat hung rhodedandrons
Bare patches of mossy grasses
Glisten dryly in shivery sunlight
Neath empty twigs on empty branches
All tipped with swell of will be buds
This morn is full of shudder coulds
And the second cuppa's swallowed cold
This winter time is getting old
As hungry sparrows' wings unfold.
In not a breath of wind
Categories:
dryly, nature
Form:
Rhyme
Yea, victors jest. They out-sped the cast of hunger’s cave.
Their cantors, ragged kept, did reach an faithful end.
They in the din o’ drizzle laugh, licking cool drams from stone,
as had they crawled o’er hot pools bled to prod ‘n prattle.
And who’d, when quenched, a saunter risk simply to gaze at greener gray,
who if by haze be fraught, need merely fathom sky?
Lest be displeasured he to whom above could clouds be prone to tattle,
go but shy requests, voiced dryly into azure.
For so the victims passed, betrayed by breeze and snitch of brush,
though Him on High, with just demand, they had beseeched.
Each life a tale brought to lie, defaced, in scattered, muddy tomes.
Torn is the silver lace, which once linked bone to bone.
Yet risen, too, had wanton sighs, whereof his Mightiest to ask,
whilst the ground, as should it care, received the rasps.
For what doth emptiness command and what the unseen sovereign willeth
are left matters later glibly to be bantered.
Know oft’ the hunt finds one befuddled, spelled by guiles of a wraith.
No taunt of tail waves, no wake of twig gives sway.
With head to hang, his rack he gathers in a push to halt
to stand bequeathed a chide of birds and chipmunk heckles.
There, the timber rout delays with naught but mettle left to drain,
as the mars of rock and thistle mark the wait.
Chafe of paw, tongue feathered fowl, the foiled dashes stream to words,
whereto the blood, in ruddy tones, by droplets trickles.
Categories:
dryly, animal, courage, dark, death,
Form:
The Choctaw
never taught me what the
Choctaw would’ve taught me.
The Australopithecine never taught me what
the Australopithecine would’ve taught me of.
The Memories, these Memories,
our Memories are fading songs in
an echoeless cave.
The listeners have tired,
moved on.
The choir sang, regardless...
...for a time.
And, in time, the silence overcame
the joys of recalling and the calling out
was no longer met with the
Response.
The ochre greened-over,
the iron dust fell from frost and
puddled dryly on the floor.
Summer winds, hot and desiccating,
soon scoured the walls and ushered out
the swirling cinnamon sand.
The drums beat to mineral-rich cave-dew,
on occasion. A sometime rain that formed cones.
They stretched with weatherings; sometimes taut,
sometimes loose. Their stories lost, nothing taught.
In time, their skins followed their long-lost bones into
the buried burned and carved, now-broken empty bones
Home. The silent tumulting earth. The cold overlay of the
Singeing Beneath. The singing stalled. The echoes bounced for a time from
voice to ear to wall to child to child to wall to stone to dust.
The stars never taught me what
the stars might then have taught me.
The dreams and dancings, the tremulous and then-credulous
tremolos, the inspirations of ululations, the song-stories of
peoples, of healings, of wilds, of ways...now silent.
This silence, in this echoless cave,
is the most wanting, most missing,
Sound.
Sound I’ve ever heard.
The cave never taught me.
The music never taught me.
The drum never taught me.
The dance never taught me.
The cave never taught me.
The fire is out, the embers lost.
The handprint remains on a wet wall in a dim corner in an out-of-the-way
scree-field crevasse just past the Cree field impasse.
The teachers are gone.
The ancestors quiet.
The cave never taught me.
The silence may
yet.
Categories:
dryly, philosophy, silence, student,
Form:
Free verse
I’m tired of influencers faking nervousness.
my generation wants to care less
these days.
it’s a counter-current hack.
we want to be less defined.
we can search and reflect for ourselves.
we’re sick of the emotion
that’s all over everyone’s faces,
the unsightly splotches of opinion.
the entire election machine,
the process of getting there, is smudged.
It’s a curated mess, an advising spin,
an incomprehensible hex:
“Oh profit pondering,
contradictory means to an end
- bless weave, and conceal,
bloodless dollar debt options,
painful penny pincher paradoxes,
and deadly debt bliss dilemmas..”
“Is this a witch or an arbitrager?” Lisa asked, after rudely leaning over and reading up to this point.
“I was shooting for a numinous type of beat,” I revealed.
“We’re supposed to be working on our thesis definitions,” she said accusingly.
“Are you not challenged, here, hour by hour?” I asked sarcastically.
“I need ideas - well - I have too many ideas, I need some focus, I wanted to see what you had.”
I deadpan looked at her, “Well, you broke the spell - I lost my train.” I complained dryly.
“Don’t put me in a situation.” she said, waving my gripe off as insignificant.
.
.
Songs for this:
Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls
drive ME crazy! by Lil Yachty
Melt by Nilüfer Yany
Categories:
dryly, humor, parody, political, school,
Form:
Free verse
her eyes invest in me the truths of her fragile heart
she wished to know happiness and freedom once more
she leaned gently against the window frame
her eloquent beauty whispered gently on my eyes
she gave me a soft sorrow by declining the offered flower
my words like autumn leaves gathered dryly at my feet of clay
my intents pure of heart stumbled weakly
as i tried to explain
that a breathtaking glimpse of her had found me
she was standing subtle and alluring in sunshines vivid light
highlights in her hair a golden hue like a regal crown
lost in the imagery of her smiling moment
lost in her radiated gentleness
that engulfs like silent fierce seduction of your heart's better natures
you only think of heartfelt wish to see her joy
you breath and live to see her smile
you will love her presence like summery sunshine's kiss
you will adore her silken voice like moonlight dance upon water
the offered plastic flower but a token of adoration
a bauble cast with noble intent
for a fine young goddess
(for morning book kara... :-) a really nice girl and nice friend)
Categories:
dryly, appreciation, day, girl, inspiration,
Form:
Ballad
I was grasped by the soulless of the dark. Forever pitted and plagued by the weight of the world.
I’ve tried…I’ve tried my whole life to dry my tears.
Even when I’ve given up and I’ve done so countless times…even when I’ve given up I am not free. I cannot shut it off. I cannot flip the switch like a frown to a smile.
Have I ever smiled? I’ve worn a smile but I don’t remember ever smiling.
With a new day I have new life but not a new beginning. It continues from the sleepless nights to the rise of the sun.
My eyes feel heavy. The world feels heavy. My shoulders always hunched from the weight and I had stopped caring long ago.
I use to run…I use to run away from it all, but now I let it capture me. It engulfs me and I drown without a struggle.
I see so many things wrong and I ask why. Why is everything wrong? Why can’t it all be right like I used to see it in my head?
It cannot be right because it never was and probably never will be. Could it really be so simple? As simple as I’ve pictured it every night when I was a child…perfection, happiness, life.
The innocence I wish I never lost.
Loss…I could spend years recalling all I’ve lost and how it shadows the meaningless of what I’ve gained.
Maybe that’s why everything is so wrong…because the answer is so simple.
As I am lost in endless dread of confusion, my mind as hollow as my still heart…a golden light awakens my attention.
And then there was you…
You…the definition of perfection and the true meaning of a smile.
As I write these words I am appalled by its complete and utter smite on paper.
I am appalled by what I have witnessed. The false hope of something so pure as love.
How weak it made me and how pathetic I lusted for it. As it passed…as you passed I grew but delved deeper into the void of nothingness.
I laugh dryly now for I have seen what lies the light hides.
Categories:
dryly, me,
Form:
We are creatures of the Night,
imprisoned, dreaming, in the Day
yielding to the murderous light
trapped within our cell we stay
crying out we scream in fear,
sobbing dryly, disappear
while eternity is joyful never,
terror reigns on us forever
hypnoteric counter-minds
falling ever on the blind
kill the person, kill the now
kill ideas, you murder hope
with destruction we're endowed
ever growing in its scope
Categories:
dryly, depression, philosophy,
Form:
I experience inappetence, yet nevertheless hunger for victuals
Mine corporeal complex edifice
unleashes convulsions of anxiety.
Lack of appetite
to savor even smallest bite
unlike Pavlov's dog,
I neither salivate nor excite
at prospect (parking) body
against table not low but fahrenheit
unfair punishment fates did indict,
whereby yours truly decreed
to suffer wraith inflicted
akin to ghastly revengeful Jacobite
asitia struck with vengeance
sucker punched pit of stomach
with furious dog forsaken might
unsavory predicament figuratively
eating away me passion
to relish comestibles day and night,
hence feeble effort to craft poem quite
lame rhyming for no reason right?
Yours truly cannot remember,
how many days, weeks, months... ago
elapsed, whereby with voraciousness I ate
(above mentioned statement veracious -
food for thought) I plainly communicate
hoop fully buzzfeeding, dishing out quandary
in fortified effort to elucidate
thee dear anonymous reader great
if newfound (albeit tenuous) intrigue
awoke courtesy mine artful ruse to initiate
reciprocity, cuz regret iz the stealer of joy
thus verbally athletic, cryptic, enigmatic,
generic, idiotic, kinetic, magnetic, opportunistic
quixotic, solipsistic (ha) troubadour
who heartily hales within
southeastern keystone-state
dares himself to reach out across cyberspace
in an cautiously optimistic effort to mitigate
and extend his metaphorical (albeit empty) plate
maintaining netiquette, an amorphous,
yeah flirtatious nebulous groovy savoir faire,
which mine body, mind, spirit triage
suddenly seems restoration of natural craving
toward sustenance doth oscillate.
What relief long starved taste buds to appease
cuz methought (courtesy obsessive compulsive
worst case scenario catastrophizing)
one garden variety guy
acquired some generic disease
A deep sigh of relief he dryly heaves!
Categories:
dryly, 12th grade, confusion, february,
Form:
Rhyme
She was Shreveport sitting on the front porch
that warm February Louisiana evening
When the cold, shrill code blue siren news
slowly, solemnly
serenade waltzed up the white marble steps
The municipal, official flatline sympathy greeting
was tear-tissue dryly issued
with sterile
responsibility denial
Listening with deadened emotion,
the tall, dark Cajun woman grew shorter ...
as she began to bend
lower and lower,
into the nether bowels of bereavement
Her Haitian hazel eyes softly showered
late maternal fears down on the hard, bitter red clay
And her knees were trembling
in a gulf summer breeze, Magnolia tree swaying way
She could hear the po-po siren song
of her slain son’s departing voice calling out to her
And she felt a caught crayfish moan
rising up in her pain-stricken, brokenhearted bones
Her ivory tusk memory
would clearly recall a long time later,
that it seems like she had cried a lifetime
that mournful day
And tho’ the tears have now slowly faded away,
they always return weepy fast ...
every time she hears the revolving bullet flash
of the soul-cleaving siren blast
Categories:
dryly, bereavement, death, pain, sorrow,
Form:
Elegy
He was a strange character, that one, at times speaking only in prose.
I still don’t fully comprehend the intensity of his persona,
But I predict that it will never cease to enchant me.
I said, “ Oh Mr. Poetry Man, you are really doing something to me...”
To which he just chuckled dryly, something he had an affinity to do.
I said, “ let me paint poems across my mouth and kiss you until you understand…”
To which he eventually smiled, soft and welcoming, a true rarity in this world.
I said, “It seems the only time I can hold you is in the milliseconds between our heartbeats…”
To which he simply held my fragile hand and didn’t let go.
I said, “ maybe one day we’ll get to write our happy ending…”
To which he answered, “I promise”
Categories:
dryly, beauty, deep, desire, heart,
Form:
Free verse
Every shogun nation wanna be
in war visor control
Commandeer the missile steering wheel,
be the king of the road
Likewise, imperial power lust eyes
wanna be the top wing of the hive
Taste all the money honey they see ...
rule in monarch luxury as a rogue queen bee
Those choo-choo Charlies and Charlizes
wanna own all the golden tracks
underneath their silvery tone loco-motives
Fear is the best power train
to haul a cargo of hate ...
nitro-oxy fueled by fiery, coal-hearted jeers
Caesar coins in a slot brain
opens the security gate
Let scoundrel squatters steal the best years
Covetous breach babies squealing
brass ring sobs so mean
Pompous platinum wavy cries
blown by
Midas lung kings and queens
Their golden overflow promises
drip molasses slow
As they drink deep the sweet nectar reward
on a rapid de-Nile flow
Sacrificing pawns’ sweat and blood,
labor grievances drowned in a flood
Cent-ipede feet swept off the chessboard,
reign heads dryly issue policy morgues
Lamb prey jaws of wolf kings
and fox queens
strip the bankrupt bones clean
Lamprey thoughts of craven monarch eels
got parasitic hungering
As ash-blue tears of
Red minnow pauper children pay the bills
Grisly yen acquisition kings and queens
wanna pander bear rule over everything
Global coronation of serpent stings,
set to profit poison the planet green
Categories:
dryly, corruption, evil, metaphor, power,
Form:
Rhyme
Yesterday, not only did prose taste strange
but an unfamiliar maundering
settled it's silence
upon my tongue
with an unsavory absoluteness
only the mouth could define,
yet mine voices nothing
now today I feel like my heart
bears some sort of physical deficiency
as if all the blood and ink consumed itself
leaving me dryly inadequate
to write a poem
and these fingers have been fidgeting
with a sick kind of worry,
starving for a fork
that not only cradles clarity
but also quells it's holder,
whilst nourishing the belly
with palatable substance
Categories:
dryly, on writing and words
Form:
Free verse
This damned domain of dominoes destined to fall
This doddering diatribe deliberately designed
This dwelling damp as deadwintered Darlington
This deeper dream of dungeons and dragons
This desperate dirge of dying deliberations
This drum droll as December’s daylight done
This decorated delightful deck of diamonds
This driven date that doomsday deselected
This dotted, dashed diary of dark desperation
This demystified danger we dryly decompress
This dead, defunct day that drew disgust
This damned domain of dominoes all fallen down.
17.4.2022 6pm
Categories:
dryly, word play, words,
Form:
Free verse